


The Grand Scheme of Things

by emergencyfryingpans



Series: The Grand Scheme of Things [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Gen, Harry Potter Next Generation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 01:18:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6544558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emergencyfryingpans/pseuds/emergencyfryingpans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver Jamieson is about to start his first year at Hogwarts, and he can't wait. But there's one problem: he has anxiety disorder, and it pretty much rules his life.</p>
<p>With the help of his new-found friends, will he be able to get through his first year? Or will it all be too much?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Grand Scheme of Things

**Author's Note:**

> This story is dedicated to anyone who suffered from or is still suffering from anxiety disorder. 
> 
> I know how hard it is. Keep fighting, soldier.

I never really liked trains. I have a tendency to get very travel sick whenever I have to go on a train — or any form of transport, and even though my mum gives me a travel-sickness potion whenever we travel, I still hate travelling. But I especially hate trains. I’m afraid that the train will go off the rails and crash and kill us all, or that someone sets off a bomb (from my understanding, bombs explode and blast people apart, a bit like a detonatable reducto curse in a box), or we crash into another train and die. I don’t trust muggle transport. But, then again, I don’t trust wizard transport that much either.

But I need to take the train to get to Hogwarts. And I really want to go to Hogwarts. So I take a deep breath, and step over the gap and onto the train.

I want to find an empty carriage on the train. That way, if someone does have a bomb, it won’t be anyone in my carriage, so I'm less likely to be killed. That sort of makes sense, but not really. Not a lot makes sense when you’re anxious.

There aren’t any empty carriages. I went along the whole train and didn’t see one. I don’t want everyone to stare at me on my way back to the front, so I just walk into the end carriage. This one only has one person in it — a girl who looks about my age. She has very pale skin and black hair that looked like it was tied up properly at one point, but it is coming out now. She has… I think they’re called head-phones… over her ears, and her eyes are closed.

“C-c-can I sit in here?” I ask quietly. I go bright red. Why do I have to stutter when I’m nervous? It doesn’t seem like she heard me though.

“Excuse me?” I say, a bit louder this time. The girl’s eyes fly open, and she looks at me. She takes off the head-phones.  
“Yeah?” she asks. She has very dark eyes. They look like the sea at sunset – not quite black. They have some blue in them.

“Er… I was wondering if I could sit in here?” I ask, a bit more confidently this time.  
“Of course.” The girl replies with a smile. Her left front tooth is missing. She sees me looking at the gap in her smile. “I lost my tooth. I... I tripped up and landed flat on my face. I’m so clumsy.” She says sadly. “That was my adult tooth, as well. I’ll have that gap for the rest of my life.”

“No, you won’t. The matron can regrow it, can’t she?”  
“Wizards can do that?” she exclaims, smiling brightly. She quickly covers her mouth with her hand, probably because her gums hurt. The gap still looks pretty raw.  
“Are you a muggle-born?” I ask.  
“Well, yeah. Didn’t you see my head-phones just now?” she replies.  
“Oh, yeah.” I say, feeling pretty stupid. I should probably have asked her when she knocked out the tooth, but she speaks before I can ask.

“What’s your name?” she asks, but before I can respond, she says, “No, actually, let me guess… Are you called… Christopher?”. I shake my head. “You look like a Christopher.” She says. “What’re you called?”  
“Oliver. Oliver Jamieson.” I say.  
“Oh, I was wrong. You look like an Oliver.” She says. “What do I look like?” She asks curiously.  
“Um… I don’t really know. Solstice?” I guess. She shakes her head and smiles, this time not showing her teeth.  
“My name’s Clara.” She says. “Although Solstice is a beautiful name… I sort of wish I was called Solstice now.”

I think that Clara is an even more beautiful name, but I don’t want to tell her that in case she thinks I’m weird.

There’s a scary whooshing noise, and we’re suddenly plunged into darkness. I let out a strangled yelp. I didn’t realise we had left the station. I didn’t felt a jolt as we set off. Oh God, we’re in a tunnel and I’m on a train full of strangers and any of them could kill us and a train could crash into -

“Olly.” I hear Clara’s voice through my panic. I tear my eyes away from the window, which I had been looking at without really seeing anything. Clara looks concerned. Her big, dark eyes seem even bigger. “Try and take some deep breaths, okay?”

I try and take deep breaths, but it’s as if my lungs can only hold a quarter of what they usually can.  
“What is it?” Clara asks softly. I can’t answer. It feels like I’ve just missed a step on the stairs, but instead of it being a short scare, it’s prolonged. “It’s the train, isn’t it.” I manage a nod.  
“It’s okay. It doesn’t feel like it right now, but trust me, it will be okay.”

When I could properly focus again, I saw that Clara was looking at me intently, and that she has put her headphones on me. They’re playing an odd buzzing noise that’s strangely calming.  
“It’s ok. I’ve calmed down now.” I say shakily, taking the headphones off.  
“That’s good. I was worried that I’d have to move you while you were having a panic attack.” Clara says. I wonder what a panic attack is. It sounds similar to what was happening to me just now, though. Panic, attacking me. “I was going to leave and go get changed, but I didn’t want to leave you. Are you okay for me to leave you now? I’ll only be a minute.”

I nod, and watch her leave. She makes eye contact with me as she closes the door. I stare out the window again. The train is halfway through turning, and I can see that there’s nothing in front of us, and nothing behind us either. I take a deep breath, and let it out. It feels wonderful.

It’s so stupid. Clara wasn’t freaking out when we went into the tunnel. Why can’t I stay calm and be rational too? But then again, Clara wasn’t looking very calm at all. She looked concerned. But that was because I was panicking. And she didn’t leave either. She must have sat there looking at me panicking for about… an hour? We got on the train at eleven, and the grumbling noise from my stomach is telling me that it must be about lunch time. I pull a sandwich out of my lunch box, and start eating.

The carriage door opens. It’s Clara, in her school robes. The robes look distinctly crumpled, as if they had been squashed into a very small space and left there for a long time.  
“Do my robes look really bad?” she asks.  
“No.” I say too quickly. She frowns.  
“Liar. It’s okay though, my clothes have looked worse.” She smiled sadly, and sat down next to me, instead of opposite like before.

“Do you want any?” I offer her a quarter of my sandwich.  
“That’s ham isn’t it?” I nod. “Sorry, I can’t, I’m a vegetarian. Thanks for offering, though.” Clara replies seriously. I take a bite out of my sandwich.  
“Sorry. Don’t you have any lunch?”  
“I have a tub of Pringles, but that’s all. I was in a bit of a rush this morning.” She walks over and pulls a red tub out of her bag. She takes off the lid, peels back some foil, and eats a crisp.

“Did the white noise help?” Clara asks, after swallowing her mouthful.  
“What?”  
“I was playing some white noise in the headphones. Did it calm you down at all?”  
“Er… no, not really. It was relaxing when I did start to hear it, but I couldn't hear anything for the whole time I was having my... er... panic attack.” I say, trying out the new phrase. Wizards don't have a word or a phrase for "panic attack".   
“That’s interesting.” Clara says quietly, as if she’s thinking hard.

“What is it?”  
“Well, white noise helps me calm down if I’m stressed or angry or whatever.” Clara replies.  
“When do you get – I mean, you seem like – You don’t seem like someone who would ever need to calm down…” I finish. God, she thinks I’m stupid now, I bet. I can’t even speak properly.

“You’d be surprised.” Clara replies, as if I hadn’t just messed up my entire sentence. I open my mouth to say something, but the carriage door swings open to reveal three tall boys. The boy in the middle looks familiar for some reason, but I can’t think where I've seen him before.

“Why did you freak out when we went through the tunnel?” the one I think I recognise asks.

“How do you?—” I croak.  
“Windows.” He says, pointing to a small window above the luggage rack.  
“So you were spying on us.” Clara says evenly. Even though she doesn't look particularly angry, I can sense that she is full of rage.  
“We weren’t spying.” One of the other boys said, sensing danger.

“Yes, you were spying. That’s what it’s called when you stick your nose into someone else’s business and look at them without them knowing.” Clara says, as if she was explaining something complicated to a toddler. I burst out laughing at the look on the boys’ faces. Clara gives me a brief smile, before continuing. “Now, you can either explain why you were spying on us and then leave, or leave right now and not bother us again. It’s your choice. You do seem to enjoy our company rather a lot, so I imagine you’ll go with the first option.” Clara finishes.

“We’ll just leave.” One of them says sheepishly. Without thinking of anything much, I blurt out,  
“Just a heads up, if you have a crush on Clara, maybe you should try talking instead of stalking.”

Clara snorts with laughter, and the boy I thought I recognised turns around as if he wants to say something, but seems to decide against it, and slams the door shut.

“That was hilarious. You completely destroyed them.” I laugh.  
“That parting blow was brilliant too.” She replies. “ ‘talking instead of stalking’… poetry, Olly, pure poetry.” Clara gazes off into the distance, as if reliving the moment. “You don’t mind me calling you Olly, do you?” She asks suddenly.  
“No. I like it. I haven’t had a nickname before.” I say before thinking.

Oh God, now she thinks I’m weird. ‘I haven’t had a nickname before’. Seriously?

“Really? Well, neither have I. Clara can’t really be shortened to anything, can it…”  
“Lara?”  
“As in Lara Croft? No thanks, I don’t intend to raid any tombs anytime soon.” Clara smiles. I think what she said is a reference to muggle culture, so I don’t get it. For some reason, Clara’s smile looks odd. It’s changed since I met her.

I suddenly realise why.

“Are you… self conscious about your tooth?” I ask, and instantly regret it.  
“A bit. It’s stupid of me, really, but sometimes you can’t control your own stupidity.” Clara says wisely. I can’t help but agree, privately.

“Shouldn’t you be getting changed?” Clara asks suddenly. Damn, I forgot about that.  
“Thanks for reminding me.” I say quietly, before shutting the door. I stride along the corridor to the boys’ toilets to get changed, my bag swinging as I walk. Thankfully I don’t bump into anyone on the way there or back. I half-walk, half-run back to the end of the train, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the carriages I pass.

The lights are on now, and Clara’s eyes look even bigger in the dim light as she turns the pages of the book she’s holding.

“What’re you reading?” I ask, as I close the door to the carriage shut behind me.  
“City of Ashes.” Clara replies, without looking up. “I’m at a really good bit, I’ll speak properly in a second.” she adds, turning a page.

I let her read for a while. Outside is getting darker and darker. I think the nights are getting longer now, even though it’s only September. Today is one of those days when the moon and the sun are in the sky at the same time. I always thought that it was strange when that happened, until I learned that the moon orbits around the earth, which orbits the sun, and not the sun and the moon that orbits the earth.

There is a snapping noise, and I whip my head around.  
“Sorry, I just closed my book quite hard.” Clara explains.  
“What’s it about? Your book? I haven’t heard of it before.” I ask.  
“It’s a muggle book for teenagers. It’s about a girl called Clary who finds out– well, actually, I can’t tell you that. It would be a massive spoiler. And also, this book is the second one in the series, so you can’t start reading from this one. I have the first one with me, but it’s in my suitcase. I’ll give it to you to read later, if you’d like.” Clara offers.

“Um… Sure?” I say hesitantly.  
“Actually,” Clara says, eyeing her closed book sadly, “I think it might be a girl book. You probably wouldn’t like it as much as I do.”  
“There isn’t such a thing as a 'girl book', Clara. There are books and there are books.” I say firmly. Clara clearly loves those books, and I fully intend to read them. Clara smiles fully, this time unashamed of the gap.

The rush of countryside going past starts to slow.  
“We must be arriving at Hogwarts.” Clara says. Sure enough, as soon as we turn a corner, the silhouette of the castle is visible, the windows shining with a warm yellow light.  
“Let’s get our stuff ready.” I say. Clara raises her eyebrows. “I don’t want to be the last one off the train.” I elaborate. Clara shoves the tube of Pringles into the bag with her clothes in it, and throws it unceremoniously at the foot of the door.

I wince. “I hope there isn’t anything breakable in there.”  
“Nah. Just my clothes and what’s left of my lunch. I have my iPod and head-phones here.” She says, pulling the slim device out of the pockets of her robes, and pointing to the head-phones around her neck.

The train shudders to a halt. I pick up my bag and swing it over my shoulder. Clara leads the way out of the train. She jumps the gap nimbly, while I step gingerly over it, trying not to look down at the long drop and evil-looking machinery below. There is a tall figure standing at the end of the platform, yelling,

“FIRS’ YEARS! FIRS’ YEARS OVER HERE!”

As much as I don’t want to go over there, and face the inevitability of the sorting ceremony and everything after, I don’t want to be left behind either. I follow Clara, who is fearlessly battling her way through the crowd of pupils, all of them taller than her, to get to Hagrid. I think Clara will be in Gryffindor. Then again, she was kind to me. And she seems pretty smart as well. And ambitious, too. I don’t have any idea what house she’ll be in. I don’t know what house I’ll be in, either. I don’t have any of those qualities.

I hop in a boat with Clara and two other boys, one with tanned skin, almond eyes and brown hair, and the other with deathly pale skin and silver hair. The boats set off of their own accord. I try my hardest not to think about what could be underneath us right now, but once again, my imagination runs wild, thinking about giant squids, merpeople, grindylows –

“Look. It’s the giant squid!” Someone calls out, pointing to somewhere in the distance, where a large creature is making waves in the surface water. Well, that’s one less thing to worry about, I guess.

I manage to keep control of my nerves for the rest of the boat ride, and all the way up the cold stone passageway. Clara has probably noticed how quiet I’m being, so she hasn’t said anything. I’m grateful that she hasn’t tried to talk to me, because I feel kind of sick, but at the same time, I would appreciate the distraction.

The thing I’m most scared about is having to sit in front of everyone. There’ll be hundreds of kids there, all looking at me. It’s enough to make anyone feel ill. Clara, however, looks fairly calm. I should probably warn her about the Sorting Ceremony. She’s a muggle born, so she’ll have no idea what it is.

“C-c-clara?” I say.  
“Uh-huh?” she asks.  
“Do you know what the ceremony is like?”  
“No. I presume you do, though. Can you tell me what it’s like?”  
“We sit in front of the whole school and the deputy head puts a hat on our heads and it decides what house we belong in.”  
“A hat? Are you telling me that where we stay for the next seven years is dictated by a hat?”

“Yup.” I say. Clara looks incredulously at me.  
“And what do you mean by ‘what house we belong in’? We had school houses at my old school, but they were done randomly.”  
“What house you’re in at Hogwarts is determined by your qualities. Brave people go in Gryffindor, kind people in Hufflepuff, ambitious people go in Slytherin and intelligent people go in Ravenclaw.” I explain.  
“And you’re telling me that a hat knows all this? That sounds like utter –”

The doors to the great hall swing open with a loud creak, drowning out what Clara was going to say. Which is a good thing too, as I don’t think it was particularly polite.

“The sorting… how is it organised?” Clara asks suddenly.  
“I think it’s alphabetical order. Why?”  
“Oh. That means that you’ll be sorted before I will.” Clara says.

Oh God. I was hoping to just ask for whatever house Clara was put in – I mean, in all seriousness, she’s probably the only friend I’ll ever make here – but now it’s all on me. I need to make my own choice. And in the end, Clara might not be in the same house as me. The prospect of being alone for the next seven years is… quite sad, actually. Clara might make other friends and forget about me. It’s happened before, and it will happen again.

“Don’t be scared, Olly. Everything will be okay.” Clara says quietly to me as we walk past the tables. I fight to keep my eyes ahead and not make eye contact with anyone. But I’ll need to turn around and face the hall soon. God, I hope everyone else's second names begin with anything from A to I.


End file.
